Robert Randisi - Bullets & Lies

“Well,” Hampstead said, “I can’t rightly object to the alive part, can I?”

“No, sir.” Bando passed Hampstead a plate of bacon and beans, and a fork.

“Eat up, friend,” Bando said. “We’ll be in Gilette tomorrow.”

“And then I get to find out what this is all about?” Hampstead asked.

“Then we all do,” Bando said. He only knew what he and Dexter were hired to do, didn’t know anything about a Medal of Honor, or about the first two dead men. His telegram from Roper simply said “Do this” and he was doing it.

In another camp, Tommy Dexter handed his charge, Zack Templeton, a plate of beans and a cup of coffee.

“We’ll need to split the watch tonight again,” he said.

“What for?” Templeton asked. “Who’s chasing us?”

“I don’t know if anyone is chasing us,” Dexter said, “but I like to be careful.”

Templeton must have been young during the war, because he barely looked forty now. When Dexter found him, he was working as a hand on a ranch. He spent his days in the saddle, so riding to Gilette, Wyoming, was no chore for him.

“I’ll take the first watch, then,” Templeton said. “You get some shut-eye.”

“I can use it,” Dexter said.

“Still not gonna tell me what this is all about?” Dexter asked.

“I told you all I know,” Dexter said. “My boss, Roper, he’ll tell you the rest. And me, I hope.”

“Well, I don’t mind this,” Templeton said. “It’s better than punchin’ cows, and I ain’t seen those boys in a while. Not since the war.”

“None of them since the war?”

“Nope. I heard about McCord dyin’, but that wasn’t no surprise. That boy was askin’ for it.”

Dexter didn’t know what he was talking about. He knew nothing about McCord or Quinn. He only knew that Sally had been sent to pick up a man named Hampstead, and he had been sent to pick up Templeton. They were supposed to keep them alive and bring them to Gilette, Wyoming.

48

In the morning, Roper and Wilkins checked out of the hotel and chanced having breakfast before they left town. Roper took them to the café where he’d gotten the steaks the night before.

The sheriff came in while they were eating. His deputy stayed outside but cast mean looks toward them through the window.

“You gents mind if I have some coffee?” the sheriff asked.

“Be my guest, Sheriff,” Roper said. The man sat. “Thanks for leaving your deputy outside. He’s got a bad attitude.”

“Yeah, he does,” Freese said, “but he’ll get over it. He just needs to live long enough to get a little older.”

Freese poured himself some coffee, and a waiter brought a fresh pot over for them.

“Thanks, Lance,” Freese said.

“Sure, Sheriff.”

“We’re ready to go, Sheriff,” Roper assured him. “Just wanted to get some hot food in our bellies.”

“Where you headed when you leave here?” Freese asked. “Maybe I can tell your friends when they get here.”

“Don’t worry ’bout it, Sheriff,” Roper said. “We’re going to try to catch them on the trail.”

“I checked you out, Roper.”

That didn’t surprise Roper. He’d seen the telegraph wires as they rode into town. He didn’t want to send any telegrams from here, though, just in case somebody was in Denver, waiting.

“You got a solid reputation.”

“I like to think so.”

“Can’t imagine what brought you to Gilette, though.”

“Afraid I can’t say,” Roper said.

“Well,” Freese said, “that’s up to you. Sorry I can’t change my mind on you leavin’.”

“Forget it,” Roper said. “You’ve got your town to think of.”

“Appreciate you takin’ it that way.”

The sheriff pushed back his chair and stood up. He hadn’t taken a sip of his coffee.

“Good luck to you,” he said and left.

“What was that about?” Wilkins asked.

“He checked me out, wants us to know he’s not a bad guy.”

“What do we do about meeting the others?” Wilkins asked. “From what you told me, they’re coming from two different directions.”

“We’ll have to find a high point from where we can watch the town,” Roper said. “High enough to be able to see both ends. It’s not a big place.”

“Think that’s gonna work?”

“We won’t know until we try.”

Kilkenny tracked Roper to Denver. From there he sent out a batch of telegrams of his own and recruited some men right there in the city. He also got word from his men in Helena and Pierre that both Hampstead and Templeton were gone. That meant Roper was moving them, probably to some central location.

When he found Roper and his people, he was going to have a gang of his own to throw at them. Until then, he was content to remain in Denver until he got some word. Talbot Roper would be somewhere north of there, since Hampstead was in Montana and Templeton was in South Dakota. Denver was a good place to wait because wherever they had to go, they’d be able to get there pretty quick.

Kilkenny was sitting in a saloon on Market Street when one of his men, Chris Dunn, came in.

“What the hell are you doin’ here, Dunn? You’re supposed to be sittin’ on the telegraph office,” Kilkenny said.

“I was,” Dunn said, taking a seat, “but I thought you might like to hear a piece of news that came in.”

“News?”

Dunn nodded.

“There was a fella there from the Post ,” the man explained, “got hisself a piece of news he’s gonna put in the paper this afternoon, but you’re gettin’ it before anybody else.”

“What is it?”

“There was a shootout in Gilette, Wyoming,” Dunn said. “One fella, from Denver, gunned down three men in the street.”

“And why would that interest me, Dunn?” Kilkenny asked.

“Fella’s name was Talbot Roper.”

Kilkenny grinned.

“Yeah,” Dunn said, “I figured—”

“Get the men together,” Kilkenny told him. “Meet me at the railroad station in two hours.”

“Horses?”

“Horses, guns, the works,” Kilkenny said. “We got him.”

49

It took half the day to circle the town and find a clearing where they could camp and look down at the town.

“This would be a great place to build a house,” Wilkins said as they made camp.

“Well, keep it in mind,” Roper said.

“I don’t got any money to build a house,” Wilkins said. “I’ll probably have to go back to my place when this is over—if I’m still alive.”

“You’ll be alive,” Roper said. “I’m not spending all this time with you to let you get killed.”

“I appreciate that,” Wilkins said.

They got a fire going, a pot of coffee, and then drank it, looking down on Gilette, where lights were just starting to come on.

“Looks right pretty,” Wilkins said.

“And peaceful,” Roper said.

“Now that we’re gone.”

“Yes.”

While Roper continued to stare down at the town, Wilkins dropped some bacon into a pan. Then he handed Roper a plateful, saying, “There’s nothin’ else to do while we watch.”

Roper accepted the bacon and ate it with his fingers. Then Wilkins broke out the one bottle of whiskey they had bought before leaving Gilette.

“Take it easy on that,” Roper said.

“I ain’t gonna get drunk.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Roper said. “We’re going to need that to wash down our supper.”

“Okay.” Wilkins took another drink, then put the cork back in and set the bottle aside.

They had talked about a lot of things during the many days they’d been together now, but neither of them had really talked about Howard Westover.